


Kiss Bingo ficlet: The Twentieth Time. Tony/Tim

by Pennyplainknits



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-07
Updated: 2010-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 10:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennyplainknits/pseuds/Pennyplainknits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>For the square Time: Twentieth on my <span><a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/kissbingo/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/kissbingo/"><b>kissbingo</b></a></span> card, and for <span><a href="http://catwalksalone.dreamwidth.org/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://catwalksalone.dreamwidth.org/"><b>catwalksalone</b></a></span> because she is sad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Bingo ficlet: The Twentieth Time. Tony/Tim

No one (well, no one worth taking notice of anyway) ever said Tony DiNozzo was _dumb_. You don't survive prep school, Baltimore PD, irate Delta Phi Kappa's and oh yes, _Gibbs_ , without having more than your share of grey matter. He's just, a little slow on the uptake, is all. From time to time.

(You can shut up with the snickering any time, Ziva.)

So, it takes him a while to realise that this thing with McGee is less of a thing and more of a _Thing_.

The first time, it really scarcely counts. They're on a stake-out, cramped into a tiny car, watching the door of a club for a guy that Tony is privately convinced had hightailed it to Baja weeks ago. Hell, it was what he'd do. He rubs hands together in the frigid air.

"Stop figiting DiNozzo," McGee complains. He had his head tucked down inside the collar of his coat, and a ridiculous woolly hat tugged down over his ears.

"I'm not figiting McFussy," Tony says. "I'm _cold_. The DiNozzo is a warm-blooded mammal."

He reaches out to switch on the heater before remembering the whole 'stealth' part of the stake out.

"Oh, for- how many stakeouts have you been on?" McGee asks. But it's clearly a rhetorical question as he doesn't wait for an answer, just tugs his nerdtastic backpack from the back seat and pulls out a handwarmer.

"Here, you big baby," he says, snapping the button and handing it to him.

Tony grabs it pathetically quickly and feels the heat bleed into his fingers through his (stylish but not at all warm) leather gloves.

"I think I might love you," Tony says, and lunges across to give McGee an annoyingly sloppy kiss on the cheek, because he lives to make the probie irritable.

Or, at least, that was the plan. But McGee turns his head at just the wrong (right) moment and Tony's lips drag, dry and brief, across Tim's mouth.

So yeah, that happened.

They don't really talk about it, because finally, _finally_ the club door opens and Chief Pain in the Ass Jaime Nesta tumbles out into the snowy street, and they have to leave the (questionable) warmth of the car and give chase.

Tony doesn't think too much about it, after that, because he has far more awesome things on his mind than McGee's slightly chapped lips.

Second time is totally McGee's fault, and it's still not really a thing.

McGee puts his cellphone down and grins, the corners of his mouth spiking up, before he spins round in his chair and grabs Tony's lapels, pressing his lips firmly to his with a "MWAH" sound.

"What the-" Tony begins.

"That was my agent!" McGee says, and does a little shimmy in his chair.

"And your agent told you to kiss me because she couldn't? Understandable, I suppose-"

"And she told me that _Deep Six_ has just won a CWA Golden Dagger." McGee explains.

"So you kissed me?" Tony asks. He's not going to admit he knows what the Golden Dagger is, or that it's kind of a big deal. You can't let McGees get too big for their boots, after all.

"You were closest."

"Next time, kiss Ziva."

"Why would McGee kiss me?" Ziva asks, showing that uncanny knack she has for hearing just the wrong bit of the conversation.

"I just won a major award!" Tim says, eyes gleaming as he stands. Before Ziva can protest Tim dips her back, one large, sure hand in the small of her back, and gives her a movie-star kiss. Omar Sharif, possibly, or Gene Kelly.

Tony licks his lips, tasting Tim's mint chapstick, as he watches.

The third, fourth, and fifth times are Abby's fault. Damn mistletoe. And Tony thinks, if you're going to be forced to give someone the benefit of your incredible kissing experience, you might as well do it properly. It's only fair that Tim gets a little of the DiNozzo magic.

Seventh time is still at Abby's Christmas party. If Tony thinks about it, he blames Sister Immaculata's fruit cake. It has enough rum in it that he's pretty sure he's drunk just from sniffing it. It's awesome, and his slice is nowhere near enough.

"Tiiiiiiim," he wheedles, "C'mon, you don't even like fruit cake."

"I don't like _most_ fruit cake," Tim corrects, licking the stickiness from his fingers before taking another bite. "What'll you give me for it?"

Tony means to say "a ride home" but instead what comes out is "A kiss."

Tim's face gentles into a smile, kind of naughty (Tony gets horny when he gets drunk. Sue him.) and he says:

"You don't actually _need_ an excuse to kiss me, you know."

Tony has Tim backed up against Abby's purple fridge and is busy licking the rum-plum-spice taste out of his mouth, when they hear a scandalised gasp, followed by the smash of a plate.

"Please tell me that wasn't Sister Immaculata," Tony says.

"No can do," Tim replies, and nuzzles against his temple affectionately.

So yeah, after that, it kind of becomes a thing. Not a sex-thing, but a sometimes-they-make-out thing. Just, when they are bored. Or Tony's feeling mischievous. Or Tim gets that sad look on his face when his latest book is savaged by the Mystery blogs, and he needs cheering up. It's just kissing. Tony's always in favour of that. And Tim's good, warm and sly-tongued and familiar, with his long clever hands that cup Tony's jaw or knead his shoulders, or rest almost possessively at the small of his back. What's not to like?

The, captial-T thingness only hits him at the twentieth time of asking.

(Yes he counts. Such is the concern of the compulsive completest. The lack of a definitive cut for _Apocalypse Now_ physically pains him)

It's the morning after movie night ( _Princess Bride_ , pizza DiNozzo, and making out) and he'd expected to see Tim where he'd left him, crashed out on the sofa with the plaid comforter over him. Instead he's in the kitchen, bare feet on the tile floor, in his stupid math print boxers and green t-shirt, making coffee and toast.

Tony slips his hand onto Tim's hips and kisses him under the ear where he is warm and smells of sleep.

Then he freezes. That wasn't a kiss that was going anywhere. They weren't bored or sad and he wasn't yanking Tim's chain. It's a 'good morning, how are you?' kiss. A relationship kiss.

"Are we dating?" he blurts out.

Tim twists round to look at him, and frowns.

"I don't go round making out with just anyone Tony," he says, and looks hurt, like he thinks Tony maybe _does_.

"Oh." Tony considers for a second "Cool. I'm kind of slow on the uptake." And he kisses him again.

"Does this mean we might actually get past first base?" Tim asks after a while. "Because the last thing I thought you'd be is a cocktease DiNozzo."

"I'll show you cocktease," Tony says, and steers Tim out of the kitchen and back to the couch.

They kiss, and lick, and _bite_ (seriously, who'd have thought Tim had it in him. Abby's doing, no doubt) and somewhere in between Tony nibbling Tim's earlobe and Tim shoving one of his hands into Tony's shorts and wrapping those long fingers round his dick, Tony finally, _finally_ loses count.

Oh yeah. This Thing is going _great_.

End


End file.
